


everybody knows that it's now or never (and everybody knows that it's me or you)

by gggghost (dukeborninfebruary)



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Sky Gods - Freeform, Tubbo-centric, Villain Wilbur Soot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dukeborninfebruary/pseuds/gggghost
Summary: Tubbo has a plan.It isn’t a good plan. It’s a dangerous plan, a plan that could go wrong at any turn and get any number of them killed. It’s a stupid plan, a stupid fucking plan that is as unrealistic as it is risky.But it’s something, and right now it’s all he has.Or:Tubbo makes a deal with Wilbur, and there isn't any way in hell he's going to go through with it
Relationships: Nihachu & Tubbo, Tubbo & Tommyinnit
Comments: 39
Kudos: 333





	everybody knows that it's now or never (and everybody knows that it's me or you)

Tubbo has a plan.

It isn’t a good plan. It’s a dangerous plan, a plan that could go wrong at any turn and get any number of them killed. It’s a stupid plan, a stupid fucking plan that is as unrealistic as it is risky.

But it’s something, and right now it’s all he has.

Before L’Manburg, or the elections, or Tommy’s exile and Wilbur’s descent into what could best be described as madness, Tubbo and Tommy were nothing more than two friends enjoying their life. Tommy lived in a house in the side of a hill, a modge-podge of stone and wood and bricks. A patchwork of fun and games and a few experiments that caused more property damage than either of them would dare inflict on anyone else by testing their creations elsewhere.

Tubbo lived in a much bigger and grander house just down the road. He kept a bee on a leash and hid his most valuable items in a chest he buried far underground the rickety steps that led to his storage room. He always did his best to keep Tommy from accidentally ruining everything — the one time he lets Tommy go unsupervised, he comes back to find it all on fire — and they sit on the roof at sunset, bathed in pink light.

“It’s just me and you,” Tommy would say, and Tubbo would agree with a pleasant hum and a small smile. It’s the truth, it always has been. Tommy and Tubbo, together in mischief and wars they shouldn’t be fighting, pitted against one another in a rebellion and an administration they aren’t sure they will ever be able to escape.

Tubbo stands on top of a podium, hands shaking around the handle of an iron sword he feels he can barely hold the weight of.

Not a sound can be heard, nothing but Tubbo’s quiet, panicked breathing, _in, out, in, out,_ and the gurgling of the fountains.

“I want you to find Tommy,” Schlatt says. “And I want you to show him the door.”

Tubbo sets his jaw firm and the whole world seems to hold it’s breath. He stutters, for a moment, and says, “Okay, Schlatt.”

A collective sigh is released, the world keeps spinning on its axis. Tubbo finds himself stuck in a plot against his best friend. He does his best to chase their tracks, footsteps in the mud of the forest floor and a snuffed out torch in a field with nothing but a few huffing horses to claim it as their own.

Tubbo thinks of what Tommy said, and when he finds a hastily-dug pit to keep a stolen skeleton horse out of sight he turns his back to the place and returns to Schlatt with empty hands.

“It’s just me and you,” Tommy says to him. They sit on a bench outside of his house, abandoned and deserted in the chaos of the elections and the rebellion.

“Wilbur is-” Tommy stops, runs a hand through his hair and swallows. “Wilbur isn’t seeing straight. He wants to rig the place, Manburg — blow it all up. He isn’t right, he- we can’t trust him, Tubbo. I can’t trust him. You’re all I have.”

“I suppose it’s the same,” Tubbo says. “I suppose it’s the same for me. Even Fundy’s betrayed us, Tommy. It’s just you and me.”

“Just you and me,” Tommy repeats. A music disc plays — Cat, not one of Tommy’s originals, but close enough that for a second Tubbo can pretend that the war never happened, and if they turn around they’ll see Sapnap making off with one of Tommy’s best pieces of armor or Punz casually taking from Tommy’s small carrot farm. Just like the old days.

Tubbo thinks of that moment when he stands facing Wilbur, a flint and steel in the pocket of his trench coat and a languid smile on his face that can’t hide the malice in his eyes and the way his hand shakes as he holds it out for Tubbo to shake.

He thinks of Tommy, and Niki, and Eret, and even Fundy, who just weeks ago stood before the tattered remains of a burning flag with no remorse on his face.

Tubbo takes Wilbur’s hand, and he shakes it.

Tubbo knows what’s happening, knows he’s a fucking idiot for agreeing to it at all. He walks back to the festival decorations, which he knows now will be gone by this time tomorrow. Through the storm that is his mind, a plan slowly begins to form.

Here’s how it will go:

Wilbur will approach Tubbo and he will ask him to help blow up the festival. Tubbo will say yes.

His jungle base is completely trashed. The cluster of chests outside are half-empty, items scattered around and misplaced. The building itself is half burned down and the rest barely salvageable.

The night air is cool and humid as Tubbo picks his way over the half-broken floor of the hall and easily kicks down the rotting door to the room where he once kept his base of operations. There isn’t much left of use to him, but during the short time he allots for looting the remains he finds an iron chest plate and a diamond axe, three ender pearls, and small bags and vials of potion ingredients.

He dons a dark cloak and hides his things in the many pockets, lets the loose cloth obscure his figure and his possessions. He ties the axe to his side, and, glancing up at the rising moon, breaks the Nether Portal with a beaten-up diamond pick he found in one of the abandoned chests. He doesn’t want anyone escaping to the base — the jungle is vast and dark, a tangle of tree limbs and vines that are a pain in the ass to chase someone through.

He sighs and pulls the cloak tighter around his shoulders. The walk back is a long one, but he can’t risk being seen in the Nether. If the wrong people reported him to Schlatt, or Wilbur, or anyone really, his scheme would be compromised, completely ruined by any one small slip-up, and he _really_ doesn’t want to have to come up with a new one.

And so he begins the long trek back to Manburg and Pogtopia and any number of obstacles that could guarantee his death.

Tubbo will escape without a word to anyone, and he will make it to his jungle base and find the resources he needs.

Tubbo arrives in Pogtopia on tired feet. The moon, just now beginning to drift down in the sky, tells him that he still has time before he knows Wilbur will be back. The TNT would take a long time to place, he had been told.

Tubbo slips through the door, pulling his cloak off and folding it into a bundle he carries under one arm, careful to keep any of his things from slipping out of a pocket. The place is empty, dead silent save his quiet footsteps and the gentle sound of water trickling with no obvious source. It can be heard throughout all the ravine, usually a tranquil, calming sound, but Tubbo can’t find it comforting in his present position. Wanted by both sides, a traitor wherever he goes.

He kneels down at the chests situated awkwardly at the foot of the stairs, rummaging through them, looking for any other supplies he can take in short notice. Instead of potions ingredients, he finds iron boots and trousers to match his chest plate, which he slips on, along with his cloak.

Shit. _Shit._ He takes a moment to contemplate what he’s getting into, what he’s got to do to pull this off. With a weary sigh and determined eyes, he climbs up the stairs and into the night once more.

Technoblade has a base somewhere nearby. Tubbo shouldn’t know, he could get in big trouble for daring to steal from it. But he needs more potions ingredients very, very desperately for his plan to be at all feasible. Techno is sure to have supplies.

Tubbo follows the shore of the stream, down to the large pond at the end. The moon is getting lower in the sky, soon it will start to get lighter as the dawn approaches. He’s got to get in and out of there fast.

He circles the pond, scouring the riverbed for any signs of the trapdoor he knows is there. Half-covered in rocks and dirt, he finds it and wades until he has to swim. The door is jammed shut, but he tugs at it fiercely and yanks it open. The water at the bottom cushions his fall, and he takes the room into quick account. The walls are lined with chests and furnaces. Across the room is the entrance to an enchanting room, and thank the fucking lord, Techno has two idle brewing stands.

Mechanically, Tubbo begins mixing the potions. The first chest he opens is full of vials and supplies, all of which he promptly steals. 

Potions brewing, Tubbo sits back on his haunches, examining the room more thoroughly. Searching for any sign of withering wood, a quick giveaway to wither skulls stored any a chest.

Potions bubbling softly in the background, Tubbo crosses the room to look closely at one of the chests. He grabs the corner of his cloak and wraps it around his hand, before knocking on the wood, just ever so slightly darker than the rest. It gives in under his hand, decaying and pliable.

Definitely withering. Rookie mistake, keeping wither skulls in any sort of wooden vassal. Tubbo supposes that Techno is more well aquatinted with the blade than what comes of it.

He takes the wither skulls, this time with his cloak wrapped around both hands to avoid touching them with his bare skin. Withered wood is bad enough, withered skin is an entirely different ordeal. He drops them into his ender chest and kicks it shut.

Well, that’s the easy part of the plan done. Skulls secured, Tubbo moves back to the potions stand and, seeing the telltale fizzles of blaze powder, takes the bottles from the stand with a practiced hand. They’re ready, three bottles to save Manburg and L’Manburg.

Tubbo tucks them into his cloak, lets the empty vials once containing the ingredients smash to the ground. He’s going to be out of here long before anyone gets back, Wilbur from his scheming or Tommy from his hide out between the Dream SMP and Manburg. No need to try and hide his presence.

And then, because irony is a bitch, he hears a soft splash and whirls, axe in hand, to be met by the bored face of Technoblade.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck, fuck._ He has to of here, quickly- his cloak catches on the hinge of a chest, leaving him to struggle and pull at it fruitlessly.

“Hi,” Technoblade says, like it’s any normal day and Tubbo hasn’t just stolen one of the two big components to the soon-to-be-executed plan of mass destruction.

“Move,” Tubbo snaps, brandishing his axe in front of him with more bravery than he has ever really felt. Bravery isn’t his thing — he would describe his brief stints of fearlessness as a reckless impulse. Tommy is the one for bravery, not Tubbo. Never Tubbo. He can’t take Techno in a fight, they both know it, but like the fucking idiot he is he stands there with shoulders wide and face stiff.

He isn’t self-centered, he isn’t arrogant. He knows this is his only chance — everyone’s only chance. He has to go through with it or die trying. And if he dies from Technoblade, at least that’s a cool way to go.

Techno takes a step back, enough that Tubbo is no long within range of the sword he holds by his side — netherite, enchanted, he notes — enough that Tubbo’s axe has no hope of reaching him. “Woah, kid,” Techno says, and and Tubbo wants nothing more than to run right then and there, but something keeps his feet glued to the ground.

“I’m not gonna stop you,” Techno says, eyes keeping a close, wary watch on Tubbo. “I’m not gonna stop Wilbur either. I’m not here to see someone in particular win, I- I’m just here to stab whatever I’m told to stab.”

Tubbo lowers his axe, slowly, but holds it with a tight grip, ready to swing as soon as Techno takes a step towards him.

“Man, I said I wasn’t gonna get emotionally attached to anyone- anything, here. I’m kinda an idiot like that sometimes.” Techno pauses, coughs, and opens his mouth to say something before shutting it again. “Listen, kid. I’m mot on anyone’s side- I’m not meant to be on anyone’s side. Technoblade is always fightin’ for the losers, ya know? Yeah, thats- I always gotta do that. It’s just my thing.”

“But you, Tuboo-“Techno sighs deeply. ”You can stop Wilbur. I love a fight as much as the next person- probably more, actually. But Wilbur is… Wilbur’s taken it too far. I’m going to stand by and let it happen. You won’t.”

It really is that simple. “The skulls are in my ender chest, I’m leaving with these potions and you aren’t going to stop me.”

“You’re leaving with those potions and I’m not gonna stop you,” Techno echoes. He steps back, again, so his back is up against the wall. A dangerous position for a fight, but Tubbo supposes that’s his way it isn’t a fight at all. Tubbo backs up, slowly, hands shaking, still holding his axe with a knuckle-white grip.

Before he steps back into the water elevator, he says, just barely above a whisper, “Thank you.”

Dangerous people recognize dangerous people, he supposes. Technoblade won’t help him, but he isn’t going to stand by and watch Manburg burn and that Tubbo is very grateful for. Outside, he takes a breath of the fresh air of very early morning and starts walking once more.

Technoblade, a biased judge, meant to be impartial and never really was, will let Tubbo take his 6 wither skulls without a fight, and Tubbo will hide them in his ender chest.

The sun is almost rising as Tubbo stumbles upon Niki’s camp. The air has began to warm, leaving him sweating in his dark cloak and armor he hasn’t had the time to remove since he first put it on. Only hours ago, but what feels like days.

“Oh, fuck-” he hisses as he trips over a root for the nth time. Struggling to his feet — god, he’s tired, he isn’t sure he can remember the last time he slept but it must had been at least a day — he dusts himself off and checks his arms and legs routinely for any scrapes he needs to patch up before moving on. He straightens to his full height, and comes face to face with-

“Niki?” He asks, voice rough and hopeful.

Niki stands in front of him, revolutionary uniform battered and hair flowing wild in the wind not strong enough to penetrate Tubbo’s cloak. She holds in iron sword between them, just touching Tubbo’s throat.

“Tubbo,” she says venomously, and Tubbo realizes far later than he should have that she doesn’t know anything — his role as a spy, the festival, the TNT, or Wilbur’s… current state. God, she hasn’t had contact with any of them since she escaped Schlatt’s grasp.

“No, I’m not- we didn’t-” he fumbles with his words for a moment, painfully aware of the sword at his throat. “I’m a spy- I was never on Schlatt’s side, I swear, I swear. I got- Wilbur and Tommy, I’ve been relaying info to them on Manburg.”

Niki continues to watch him suspiciously, but he knows that she doesn’t doubt him. He always made a point to be honest with her, a luxury few can afford from him in this present world. She lowers her sword, and smiles at him, albeit a bit forced. They’re both battered and bruised and tired, two figures standing in the woods wanting so badly to go back to a time when they could be laughing instead of, well, whatever it is they have to do to survive these days.

“Tubbo, what happened?” Niki asks. She always seems to know when something is wrong — Niki is just like that, Tubbo recalls. Far more perceptive than anyone would think.

“A lot,” he says. “A lot. Shit, Niki.”

She steps back, nodding to indicate he can walk freely without finding a blade in his gut. Her camp takes up the small clearing — a beat up tent and sleeping bag, a fire pit, and a pack tipped on its side with items sprawled across the ground nearby, papers with coordinates and maps and battle plans scrawled in Wilbur’s and Schlatt’s and Niki’s hand.

“Have you been here since you escaped Schlatt?” Tubbo asks, seating himself on the dirt ground next to the ashes of the campfire.

Niki, picking up the firewood she had dropped in her haste to intercept Tubbo, replies, “No, I was running for awhile. Trying my best to get them off my trail. I only really got here about a week ago.” She sets the bundle down and sits across from Tubbo, examining him with a caring expression he hadn’t been on the receiving end of in weeks. “What happened, Tubbo? You look like you’ve been through hell and back again.”

  
“Yes, basically,” Tubbo says. “It’s… a lot’s happened. Wilbur- I don’t know, something- something’s fucking happened to him, he planning to… He’s going to blow up Manburg. Dream gave him TNT, he’s rigged the whole place. Going to set it off at the festival with- everyone’s gonna be there.”

Niki’s hand is on the pommel of her sword again, and Tubbo remembers rather vividly a pet war, and one very pissed off figure who marched up to Sapnap’s door with a knife hidden in her coat she never had to use. Jesus, she can be really fucking scary when she wants to be. “I’ve been spying on Schlatt for them, since day one, basically. Tommy told me about it — Wilbur’s plan. Said we had to stick together. And then Wilbur came to me, I know he doesn’t fucking trust me farther than he can throw me. He doesn’t even trust Tommy, Jesus Christ. He said he wanted me to be safe, told me about his plans for the festival. I’m supposed to give a speech, he wanted to make sure I’d get out in time and- and take down the obsidian flag.” Tubbo snorts. “There’s no way he really cares about me staying safe.”

Niki looks down at the ashes of the campfire, a memorial to the ashes of a flag long gone, blown away in the breeze and scattered over the earth. “You have a plan,” she says, and Tubbo thinks that he needs all the help he can get. Niki is in the perfect position to make his job a whole lot easier.

“I do,” Tubbo says. “Wilbur thinks I’m loyal to him, thinks he’s tricked me into trusting him. He’s made me promise not to speak to Tommy. Not like I’d have a chance to anyways. Niki, I think… I need your help.”

Niki looks him in the eye, and he sees flames dancing in her eyes. “Of course, Tubbo.”

Tubbo will find Niki’s camp. She will agree to help him with the next stage of his plan.

What he doesn’t expect is Eret.

Eret, who joins their budding nation with hope in his loud laugh and a grin on his face.

Eret, who leads them to the final control room, their doom spelled out in the letters on a sign. Who watches them fall under the power of the Dream SMP in seconds.

Eret, who congratulates him on his betrayal of Tommy and Wilbur — “ _I didn’t know you were capable of such a thing. I’m proud!_ ” He crows.

Eret, who sees Tubbo on the outskirts of Manburg and doesn’t say a word.

It’s nice, Tubbo thinks, to know that among double-crossers and enemies he is safe.

Here is the thing about being a traitor, a double agent, a triple agent, so on and so forth.

Your loyalties will become twisted, wires snared and entangled, a mess of truth and lies and bluffing every day to save your ass. Your perspective will shift — you don’t know who you can trust, you don’t know who trusts you. You don’t know who you _should_ trust, and Tubbo thinks that that is possibly the worst aspect of it all.

There is no simple way to put it, but still he tries — Schlatt thinks Tubbo is loyal to Manburg, and Wilbur thinks Tubbo is loyal to Pogtopia. Tommy knows Tubbo is loyal to him, and that is really the only truth in the mix. Tubbo trusts Tommy, and he trusts Niki, and he wants very badly to trust Eret, but some wounds cannot be mended in a matter of hours. Fundy and Schlatt are long gone, one too stuck up in the image of himself as a winner and the other a poor excuse for a leader or a king. Quackity, he doesn’t have to worry about — the man is smart, he knows what’s best for him. When the time comes he’ll go along with whoever comes out on top. Techno will see the end of an empire and skip town, find a new place to fight for the underdogs. Dream will return to being the ruler of the SMP, and Sapnap and George will return to being his henchmen and best friends.

It will all end with a bow on top, as Wilbur would say.

Tubbo, dark hair ruffled and clothes barely presentable, stands on top of the podium. The sun is up, the sky is bright and blue, a stark contrast to the grey clouds swallowing it hours ago. The grass is damp with dew and the birds are singing.

The seats below are full of people from across the world, members of the SMP and of Manburg. They all wear happy smiles, innocent in their joy and naive in their knowledge of what is to come.

Tubbo, eyes tired and mind racing, holds a microphone in his hands which long ago stopped shaking. He can’t afford to mess up, not now. What went from exhaustion has turned to anticipated numbness, adrenaline racing and shoulders tense. Schlatt stands beside him, looking over the land that has been transformed from a drug dealing van to a beautiful nation to whatever kind of disaster it is now.

The sun rose that morning, bloody and true, on a land Wilbur Soot could not have. It rose that morning on a land Tommy would protect with his life. It rose on a morning that saw Tubbo’s plan falling into place piece by piece, a patchwork of half formed ideas and shit that he would never have gotten away with if not for the luck of the Sky Gods on his side.

Tubbo’s cloak, forgotten in the little room he calls his own, has three empty vials in the pocket. The ender eyes are gone too — one can be found clenched in Tubbo’s hand at his side.

Schlatt claps him on the shoulder, and with one last deep breath that signals the beginning of what could very well be the end, he clears his throat and waits for silence. The crowed quiets down, attentive eyes turning to him. He feels a bit of stage fright, and can’t help but think that it’s really dumb, considering what is about to happen that far overshadows any worry of embarrassing himself.

“Hello, everyone,” he says into the mic. There is no feedback, or awkward coughing on his part. It’s almost perfect, like a scene in a movie. “Welcome to the first every festival of Manburg!” He forces as much enthusiasm as he can into his voice, and is grateful for the many, many times he had to lie to someone’s face to become so good at it.

“We’re glad to see everyone here to day,” he continues. His voice doesn’t shake. “After the… rough patch we had after President Schlatt was elected, we’re glad to get a day of fun and relaxation for everyone!”

That one is a lie.

“Thank you to the decorations committee — Karl Jacobs, Ponk, and me — for setting up this lovely venue. Thank you to President Schlatt, for hosting this, for being such an amazing ruler for out fine nation…”

The speech continues, words memorized and mechanical falling from his lips. Tubbo makes eye contact with Niki, on top of Eret’s tower. Tommy is watching somewhere from the hillside, a hopeless figure no one but Tubbo notices. He hopes, desperately, that Eret caught an inkling of his plan and relayed it to Tommy. 

A nation forged in blood and war and brotherhood does not deserve to go out in a blast, a mindless killing with no hint of the original honor in their hearts.

“It’s just me and you,” Tommy had said.

Tubbo nods, once, a slight jerk of the head to Niki, and she nods back.

The whole world draws in a breath, and holds it tight. Tubbo finishes his speech with a flourish, and intricate allusion to the end of the show. The crowd claps, and the final stage of the plan kicks in.

Here’s how it will go:

Wilbur will approach Tubbo and he will ask him to help blow up the festival. Tubbo will say yes.

Tubbo will escape without a word to anyone, and he will make it to his jungle base and find the resources he needs.

Technoblade, a biased judge, meant to be impartial and never really, will let Tubbo take his 6 wither skulls without a fight, and Tubbo will hide them in his ender chest.

Tubbo will find Niki’s camp. She will agree to help him with the next stage of his plan.

It will all end with a bow on top.

The crowd cheers, clapping rings through the air.

A button is pressed.

Nothing happens.

Wilbur Soot, trench coat and stained shirt wrapped around him in the blazing sun, will stand in direct view of each and every member of Manburg and Pogtopia and Dream SMP. He will hold a button, and he will press it. He will stand alone as the TNT he placed by hand will not detonate.

Three vials of swiftness, invisibility, and strength are empty. Two figures, one in a torn and dirtied in a revolutionary suit, and the other in a cloak of coarse, dark fabric, snuck into Manburg and in the clear light of the dawn they silently removed every stick of TNT, every detonator and destroyer buried deep in the land of a man too good for himself and his nation.

Tubbo brings his arm up, throws an ender pearl that sails over the heads of the crowd. He lands with a thud in front of Wilbur, on his feet, and in his hands he holds a bow, drawn with an arrow pointed straight at Wilbur Soot’s chest.

“It’s just me and you,” Tommy says, and Tubbo agrees with him.

**Author's Note:**

> something possessed me and i wrote this in one day. please send help
> 
> title from "everybody knows" by sigrid


End file.
